


New Watcher

by Severely_Lupine



Series: Methos the Muggle [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Watchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severely_Lupine/pseuds/Severely_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe has a drink with a new Academy graduate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Watcher

“You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Right on time, Penelope.  Have a seat.”  Professor Dawson motioned to a table near the stage.  It was early yet—still too early for any customers to be here.  It was odd to see him like this.  She’d known he was an adjunct who taught only a few classes, that he had his own business, but it was still weird seeing him out of a suit and behind a bar.  “Can I get you anything?”

“Bu—beer,” she said as she took a seat, mentally kicking herself for the slip.  She’d been living among Muggles now for three years.  She really _shouldn’t_ still want to order a butterbeer every time someone asked. 

“Coming right up,” he said, grinning as he poured her a pint from a tap—she didn’t pay attention which.  “And you can drop the ‘Professor’ stuff, you know.  Just call me Joe.”

“Yes, sir,” she said obediently, then felt herself blush.  “I mean, okay, Joe.”

He made his way to the table, holding a tray with three beers in one hand, leaning on his cane with the other. 

“If I may ask, why did you want to see me, si—Joe?”

Joe eased into one of the chairs, passed her a beer and took one of the others.  “To celebrate your graduation and welcome you to the ranks of active Watchers.”

Penelope laughed.  “Forgive me, but . . . do you expect me to believe that?  It’s not that I’m not fond of you, Pr—Joe, but we haven’t exactly been close.”

He smiled, but didn’t answer the question.  “How did you find out about them?” he asked, leaning back comfortably.  There was no need to clarify what he meant by ‘them’.

“Usual story,” she explained, wrapping both hands around her glass.  “Right place, right time.  Or wrong place, wrong time, depending on your perception.  After school, I’d meant to take a job with the—the government, but then I turned a corner one day and saw a guy chop another guy’s head off.  The rest is history, as they say.”

“Mm,” Joe said, nodding in a way that made her quite sure he’d already known that much.  “You know, you could have been top of your class.”

Penelope fidgeted.  “Yes, I’m sorry.  I was a bit distracted this last year.  There were . . . things going on at home.  To be honest, I seriously thought about dropping out to go help.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She shrugged.  “Wouldn’t have done any good, I suppose.  There wasn’t much _I_ could have done.”  What she _had_ done was make sure her parents got safely out of England.  She did feel quite guilty just sitting put and letting so many of her friends fight the battle without her, even more so after she’d found out Percy’s younger brother had died in his arms fighting that battle, but she knew that there wasn’t much a Muggleborn witch could have done.  So she’d sat by and watched from afar.

Which was something, she supposed, she needed to get accustomed to doing, anyway.

“What have you told your family about all this?” Joe asked.

Watcher rules meant it was impossible for her to tell her parents about her new job—which she was a bit bitter about; at least the Statute of Secrecy allowed her own _parents_ to know she was a witch—so she’d wrapped up one world they couldn’t be a part of with another in her lie.  “They think I’ve taken a position with a—well, with a secret government project.  They don’t ask questions.”  Mainly because they wouldn’t know what to make of anything an Unspeakable did, even if that _was_ really what she did, and even if she _could_ tell them about it.  She wondered if the Ministry knew about Immortals, or what the Unspeakables studying death would think of them if they didn’t.

“You’re luckier than some,” said Joe.

She nodded, knowing that was true in more ways than one.  As horrible as it had been to witness that beheading, and to know she’d see many more in the future, if she hadn’t gone to France to attend the Watcher’s Academy, she would still have been in England when Voldemort took over, and there was a very real possibility she would have been caught by Snatchers and killed, like so many others were . . .

Taking a sip of beer, she stared at the bubbles rising in the unclaimed glass.  “Who’s that for, Joe?”

“A friend’s gonna be joining us,” he said.  “He should be here any minute.”

Less than thirty seconds later, the door opened and a figure in a long coat strolled in.  She couldn’t see the man’s face in the shadows, but he had an easy gait, as if he was entirely at home here. 

He stopped near the bar, his movements becoming more guarded.  He’d seen her.  The light played on his face as he approached, and she realized she knew him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place him.

“Who have we here?” the man asked cautiously. 

Penelope gasped, finally realizing who the man was.  “Methos!” she breathed, and the world’s oldest man looked sharply from her to Joe.

Joe just smiled at him.  “This is Penelope Clearwater.  She’s your new Watcher.”

Penelope blinked in surprise.  It normally took years to get assigned an Immortal, and one as famous as Methos . . . There must be some mistake.

“Hmph.”  Methos frowned, but sat down beside Joe and took a swig of the third beer.  “Joe, I haven’t had a Watcher in a thousand years.  What makes you think I want one now?”

“You don’t have a choice,” said Joe.  “The Council isn’t happy with you.  Hell, most of the Watchers aren’t happy with you.  ‘Adam Pierson’ has been given a dishonorable discharge in absentia, if it means anything.”  When the Immortal raised his glass, Penelope caught a glimpse of the Watcher tattoo on his wrist.  “You kind of made fools of all of us, Methos.”

“You know that wasn’t my intention,” Methos said wearily, as if this was a discussion he’d had many times before.

“Yeah, I know,” said Joe, not sounding like he quite believed it.  “But now that they know who you are, the Council wants to put a Watcher on you.  Don’t tell me you can’t see why.”

Methos pursed his lips in annoyance, but didn’t argue the point.  Looking at Penelope, he asked, “And what makes you think this girl can keep up with me?”

“Because,” Joe said, grinning like a cat, “she’s a witch.”


End file.
